Technically, I'm Not A Guitar

I'm Trying To Get More Into Other Things, Where Reality Is Nothing But Each Individual's Way Of Thinking.

When We Go To Play, You Flip Around And Flash Around And Everything, And Then They're Not Gonna See Nothin' But What Their Eyes See. Forget About Their Ears.

Telephone Message On His Manager's Answering Machine Shortly Before Dying Of Heroin Overdose: I Need Help Bad, Man.

The Sweet Love Between The Moon And The Deep Blue Sea.

Evil Man Make Me Kill You.